I closed the application.
“I need to check something.”
I drove home and pulled an old storage box from my closet. Inside were photographs, birthday cards, and papers that had belonged to Mom.
At the bottom, I found a picture from her final summer.
My aunt Sabrina stood beside her, smiling at the camera.
On her feet were the same white sneakers.
Sabrina had been my mother’s younger sister.
After Mom died, she helped my father with everything. She cooked meals, handled paperwork, and stayed with him when I returned to college.
Then she withdrew from us.
She claimed it hurt too much to visit the house.
I had believed her.
I called Rachel.
“Do you remember meeting my aunt Sabrina?”
“Once, at your graduation party.”
“Did you tell her about Graham?”
Rachel went silent.
“Yes. She found me crying in the bathroom. I told her everything.”
The final piece settled into place.
Sabrina knew Rachel’s secret. She knew my father’s schedule. She knew my habits. She also had access to the house for years.
I drove to her apartment before I could lose my nerve.
She answered the door in workout clothes.
Her white sneakers were beside the entrance.
When I showed her the camera footage, the color drained from her face.
“You followed Rachel,” I said.
Sabrina stepped backward.
“Lola, you do not understand.”
“Then explain it.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Your father was supposed to love your mother forever.”
“He did.”
“No. He replaced her.”
“He spent 12 years alone.”
“And that made dating acceptable?”
Her voice rose.
“Your mother gave him everything. Then he smiled at strangers as if she had never existed.”
I felt anger burn through my grief.
“You threatened six women.”
“I warned them.”
“You terrified them.”
“I protected your mother’s place in his life.”
“You protected nothing.”
Sabrina began to cry.
